


Third Eye.

by FreshSliceOfLemon



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Car Accidents, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't know why I named this Third Eye, I suppose it's a happy ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, References to Depression, References to anxiety, Sick James Madison, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, Tragic Romance, Why Did I Write This?, i think, third eye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshSliceOfLemon/pseuds/FreshSliceOfLemon
Summary: James Madison always had this recurring dream, one that has always plagued his mind and popped up at unexpected moments. He should’ve been used to it by now, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Being opened like a vivisection only to be left to rot on the metaphorical table, as if he were a measly human being in need of repairment.It wasn’t Madison’s fault that he felt this way whenever the dream kicked him in the face, at least, that’s what he always told himself.
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Third Eye.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited, so please ignore any mistakes that were made. My only excuse is that I'm sleep deprived and time moves faster than I can handle, l m a o.

James Madison always had this recurring dream, one that has always plagued his mind and popped up at unexpected moments. He should’ve been used to it by now, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Being opened like a vivisection only to be left to rot on the metaphorical table, as if he were a measly human being in need of repairment.    
  
It wasn’t Madison’s fault that he felt this way whenever the dream kicked him in the face, at least, that’s what he always told himself.    
  
____   
  
  
The most recent near death experience Madison had was when he was in a car, driving to work. Perhaps he didn’t get enough sleep last night, or any at all. Perhaps he had too much caffeine in his system, or perhaps fate just loved playing tricks on him. Madison didn’t know.   
  
He wish he knew.   
  
But a car rushed in front of his, while he was in it, swerving just enough to hit it. Madison’s eyes went wide, head hitting the back of his seat rather harshly as the grip on the steering wheel made his knuckles stretch and strain and turn a couple shades lighter.    
  
Madison didn’t want to go to work with a dent in his car, and he was already shaken up enough. So he called in sick for work, which was a common occurrence for him. Exchanging insurances, he then went home.   
  
Sitting down on his couch, bent over as if he were sick, Madison contemplated why- just  _ why _ life was just teasing him so much lately.    
  
What did he do to deserve this?   
  
Letting himself succumb to what felt like never ending darkness, his gaze fell before his body went light as a feather. He could always welcome sleep.   
  
____   
  
  
Madison woke up to knocking on his door. With a sigh, he got up. Stretching, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and such, he went up to his front door and opened it. Gaze blank as he saw who it was.   
  
Thomas Jefferson. Childhood friend, maybe too egoistic, a living clown. Always making jokes, smiling. A pain in the ass, too.    
  
Madison always wondered how Jefferson could smile like that all of the time. Madison wondered if  _ he _ himself could smile like that all of the time, for Thomas.    
  
“Hi, James!” Jefferson grinned down at him, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. There was barely any hair to ruffle, but Madison supposed he appreciated the gesture. “You look like you just woke up,” He chuckled, walking into the house without permission. “I heard you call in sick. You seem outta it right now, you good?” He looked at him, grin small.   
  
“Of course, Jefferson.” Madison said. Formal. Formal as always. He didn’t want to make Jefferson upset with his own problems. He closed the front door, locking it before walking into the living room and sitting back down onto the couch. Jefferson sat beside him without hesitation, like always. It was always like that. “Why are you here, exactly?”   
  
“I wanted to check up on you!” Jefferson said as if it were obvious. It was, but Madison couldn’t tell even after years of knowing him. Maybe the idiot was Madison, and not Jefferson. “I mean, we’re friends after all. Did you just sleep all day? I noticed that your car looked a little… Eh-”   
  
Madison decided a nice spot to stare at was Jefferson’s forehead. It was nice. Smooth. Easy to pay attention to, while at the same time a challenge. A chore. “I took a nap.” Being blunt is one of Madison’s hobbies, never taking a liking to lie or sugar coating subjects of any kind.    
  
Madison didn’t feel like him and Jefferson were friends. More like he was a burden and Jefferson was only here out a pity.    
  
Did Jefferson really care? What if he was the one watching Madison? What if he’s the one that has been playing with his already miserable life?   
  
Madison didn’t know.

Madison felt like he didn’t know a lot these days.   
  
“Oh! You wanna cook up some mac n’ cheese with me? I learned this recipe that I thought you might like.”   
  
He wasn’t hungry. Madison forgotten what it felt like to have an appetite. He just ate whenever people were around, whenever Jefferson was around. And, to be frank, he was tired of shoving food down his throat. The process was the equivalent of liking both pineapple and olives on pizza. Eating was slow and dry, no matter what food he ate.   
  
He wasn’t hungry.   
  
“I’m not hungry.” Madison said. Although his stomach craved for food, he didn’t want to eat. Didn’t feel like eating was necessary. Not eating gave him more time to sleep, anyway. Not eating gave him more time to not socialize with others whenever they wanted to hang out with him.    
  
Jefferson pouted in response, hand grabbing onto Madison’s forearm. “Aw, c’mon, James!” He whined, like a bratty child that didn’t get their candy. It gave Madison a sense of familiarity in his emotionally blank head, something to look forward to, he supposed. “You gotta try it, it’s the best!”   
  
Madison complied. What more could he do? Jefferson would have started begging if he declined, which made his skin crawl the more he heard it.   
  
It wasn’t like Madison hated Jefferson or thought he was annoying, he just… He wondered if he was good enough for Jefferson in the first place.    
  
He also liked the touch.   
  
Time felt slow yet fast. Madison didn’t feel as if he was emotionally involved in everything. His brain felt slow, yet everything on the outside was fast, swift, and in a moment. He always wondered if he said something too fast, too formal, but too bad. He had to endure it.    
  
For Thomas Jefferson.    
  
Always for Thomas Jefferson.   
  
____   
  
  
Madison was dreaming. It was dark, pitch black. He couldn’t see anything besides himself and only himself.    
  
But a voice spoke from behind him.   
  
He could only hear, but not move.   
  
“ _ Hello, James.” _ It was clearly a males voice, with a sort of southern accent that was able to lull you to sleep in the darkest of nights. But to Madison, it was hell.   
  
He recognized that voice. He recognized this “dream”, this nightmare.    
  
“ _ I just… Wanted to say that I love you. And that you’re very dear to me. _ ”   
  
He wanted it to  _ stop _ . He didn’t know why, but it made his toes curl and hands ball into tight fists. Red flashed in his gaze, only for a second, or maybe a moment, before fading away to black once again.    
  
“ _ Please don’t bear any harsh feelin’s towards me after this, okay..? _ ”   
  
He won’t, Madison promised the voice. Submitting himself to it. He won’t, he swore.   
  
His body jolted him awake, the only sound was the pitter patter of his heart. It was that nightmare. That damn nightmare from before. He was sick and tired of it.  
  
Sick and tired of it all.  
  
______   
  
  
He was sick.   
  
Maybe from lack of sleep or his crappy immune system, but he was still sick. Laying in bed and moving every so often. He felt restless, if he didn’t move then it felt like a never ending itch. He didn’t want to move, it made him feel worse, because, of course, he was sick.   
  
He didn’t want to admit that he was sick, for some reason.   
  
Madison let out a sigh, sniffling as something  _ cold _ pressed against his forehead. It was relieving, absolutely lovely. His brain was too occupied with being stupid and ill to even notice the person beside him, only seeing a clothed torso of an obviously masculine man wearing a disgusting, absolutely wretched, shade of purple that Madison secretly loved and admired.   
  
He passed out soon after.   
  
_____   
  
  
“James? Jemmy? Jem-Jem?”   
  
Madison blinked once, twice. And then a third time for good measure. It didn’t work, he was still tired and out of it. He only hummed in response, holding  _ whatever  _ his arms were wrapped around closer to him. It was warm and comfy and soft.    
  
“You’re-” The voice broke off to chuckle, but it was on the more giggling side. “God, you’re so cute… You gotta wake up, Jem, you’re still sick.”   
  
Oh.   
  
Oh, no.   
  
It was Thomas Jefferson. Childhood friend, maybe too egotis-   
  
“Wha..?” Madison murmured. “I…” He blinked  _ again _ , realising that he had his arms wrapped around Jefferson with his forehead against his neck. It was… Very intimate indeed. “Why’re…” His voice stopped working, sitting up as his arms loosened.    
  
“I made some chicken noodle soup,” Jefferson said. That’s when Madison noticed that Jerfferson’s arm was on his lower back. Oh. Okay. This was fine. Absolutely. Madison is totally not melting into his touch like some idiot.    
  
But he felt nice for once.    
  
He felt  _ good _ and full of serotonin.    
  
“O-Oh,” Madison murdered, eyes drooping. He still felt half asleep and maybe a bit too high on happiness right now. For the first time in forever, he felt warm and bubbly and not so empty anymore. Like he was loved, like he was-   
  
But it dawned on him. Why was Jefferson actually doing this? Jefferson didn’t have a reason to help him at all. He was just wasting his time.   
  
“C’mon,” Jefferson slipped away from Madison, letting the cold air hit him at full force. His fingers met Madison’s, palm meeting palm until they were holding hands. “I don’t want you to mope all day in here.”   
  
“You… You might get sick.” Madison said, keeping his gaze at their hands, more like staring at it. They were holding hands.  _ They were holding hands _ .   
  
“I have the best fuckin’ immune system in the universe, Jem, I think I’ll be fine.” Jefferson laughed, pulling Madison out of the bed and into the dining room. Madison ate, he wanted to get better.   
  
For Jefferson.   
  
Always for Jefferson.

**Author's Note:**

> i'M so damn tired so goodbye everyone I'm going to go to s l e e p.


End file.
